fateandfortune | The Sweet Gestures Meme

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The Sweet Gestures Meme

the sweet gestures meme

Everyone loves sweet gestures—little things that remind someone that you love them, that you think of them, that you care for their general, and other things. A gesture could be made towards a friend, a family member, or some other loved one. Maybe towards a total stranger you think deserves something to make them smile.

prompts

1. LOVE NOTES ❤ Everyone loves love notes, and they don’t even have to be romantic. It could be simple as ‘have a good day at work’ or even something funny to brighten someone’s day.

2. BREAKFAST IN BED ❤ Especially on a Sunday morning or after a long, late shift at work, breakfast in bed with their favorite foods is surely the way to start the day off right.

3. PHONE CALL ❤ Who doesn’t like a phone call from someone they love, for no reason? A nice conversation can be all someone needs to have a better day or make a good day be a great one.

4. SWEET TREAT ❤ Late at night when you’re both tired from work or just general day-to-day things, something sweet from the local bakery can be just the thing you need.

5. MASSAGE ❤ While a wonderful idea, swapping massages can be a good idea too, or doing it after a nice bubble bath you made for them, or just randomly.

6. RANDOM HUG ❤ Even if they are not having a bad day, how could a hug not bring a smile to someone’s face?

7. SMALL GIFT ❤ It could be a piece of jewelry that caught your eye and reminded you of them, a stuffed animal you won at the carnival… just something small and sweet that you are sure they are going to love no matter how cheap or expensive it is.

8. FLOWERS ❤ From a florist or from a random patch of green, the surprise of flowers for someone you know and/or love is always welcomed! Look into their meanings to make the bouquet, big or small, become extra special.

9. RENT A MOVIE ❤ Sure, you might not like the genre of the movie, but if the other person does, then that is all that matters.

10. SLOW DANCE ❤ Middle of the living room, randomly while on a date, or maybe that is the whole purpose of the date. Slow dances are so underrated.

11. SURPRISE GETAWAY ❤ Yes, that is just what you guys need: a vacation from things, even if it’s just for a day or two and is not half way across the world. From a family vacation to a romantic spur of the moment, everyone loves going to a new place.

12. SURPRISE KISS ❤ Who doesn’t like a surprise kiss? A soft one on the cheek, a kiss being the thing to wake you up in the morning, or a big one right when you walk through the door.

13. HOLD HANDS ❤ There is nothing like holding hands. It’s a simple and intimate gesture, and if you do it the right way, it could have a whole different meaning.

14. COOK DINNER ❤ Come on, give it a go. Who cares if you’re not the best cook in the world or possibly the worst? It’s the thought that counts.

15. WILD CARD ❤ Was there something missed? Did you have another scene in mind? Want to roll again?

POSTED BY luuupin @ allmymemes

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The first shirt. Rogue's eyes widened a little as he told his story, and she couldn't help but be grateful that, even if it hadn't been an easy transition, at least he hadn't been completely alone for it. That organization, S.H.I.E.L.D., had been behind it and him, and she was fairly certain that if he needed anything in this new life, they would have his back.

Her transition to this new world hadn't been anything like that. A night on the streets and one in a shelter before she'd finally given in and listened to Remy - picking pockets had been the only one to get herself somewhere remotely safe to deal with everything. She felt guilty and ashamed of it, but she'd picked her marks carefully and none of them missed what she'd taken.

Those little casual kisses were so perfect, and she hoped there never came a day where those didn't come naturally between them. That easy affection was important to her. She watched him go with a smile before setting the folded clothes on the end of the bed so she could slip off her dress; luckily it wasn't at all difficult to unzip on her own her. She removed her bra as well and folded it and the dress into a semi-neat pile before pulling on the shorts and shirt. The shirt felt even softer against her skin and she had the fleeting thought that Steve might have to fight her to get it back.

Waking up in a brand new era hadn't been nearly as easy as he made it sound, but that wasn't the point of the story, anyway. Neither of them had had an easy time of it, but they'd both made do with what they had, and pulled themselves up to where they were now. Steve would never think poorly of what Rogue had had to do to survive; sometimes, the right thing to do meant taking care of yourself.

Moving out of the bedroom, Steve headed over to the coffee table and began putting things back in order. He grabbed the cutting board, slung the shoulder strap of the cooler over his other arm, and headed into the kitchen. The remnants of food went into the fridge, then he grabbed some cling wrap and wrapped the last, uneaten sandwich before adding it as well. The cupcakes he debated leaving out, but ultimately put them in the fridge as well, unsure if some of the ingredients wouldn't spoil at room temperature sooner, rather than later. He bustled around the kitchen a little, putting things in the sink to be washed later, moved back to the living room and glanced around. The couch cushions had been knocked askew somewhat, so he pushed those back in place, then headed back to the bedroom. He was very much looking forward to seeing Rogue in his clothes.

Rogue did a bit of her own tidying while she waited for Steve to return, straightening out the sheets that had gotten more than a little rumpled during their earlier activities, and retrieving a pillow from where it had landed on the floor. She folded back the blankets so they could slip inside easily when they were ready, and then she had another yawn hit her with real strength.

Between the sun and the high levels of emotion, not to mention said activities, she was just worn out. Reaching up to run her hands through her hair, she stopped when she felt what had once been carefully crafted, smooth curls and was now... Well, it felt a bit like a swirling bird's nest. Her jaw dropped as she felt the extent of the damage and then immediately went to work taming the beast. She was in the middle of a particularly troublesome tangle when Steve reappeared, to which she said with just a hint of exasperated accusation, "You didn't tell me I was such a mess!"

Surprised at the accusation, Steve paused in the doorway of the bedroom. Finally, all he could think to say was, "...We had sex. Twice! You look fine!" He honestly didn't see anything wrong with the way she looked; her hair was really what had gotten the worst treatment. Looking at it now, while Rogue frantically tried to tame it, Steve had to bite his lip on the sudden urge to laugh.

"I─ do you want a brush, or something?" he managed to ask, mostly straight-faced.

Fine? She didn't have to look in a mirror to know that fine was not an applicable descriptor for her present appearance, thank you very much, Captain Chuckles. Narrowing her eyes at the assertion, she was stunned (and a bit amused) when he had the gall to laugh at her predicament. At least he tried to hide it, the adorable goober.

"Yes," she grumbled, before reaching over to grab a pillow to chuck at his head.

Starting to move toward his dresser, Steve just caught the movement from the corner of his eye, and ducked enough that the pillow just bounced off his back. Plucking it up before it even had a chance to settle, he pivoted and threw it back toward Rogue's middle ─ being careful about his strength. It may only be a pillow, but it could still hurt if thrown hard enough. Then he picked up the brush and - cautiously - started back toward her, hands help up with the brush in a non-offensive hold.

It had been a long, long time since Steve had last been in a pillow fight; even those had been short-lived, as he couldn't exert too much energy without his asthma kicking up a fuss at the time. He wasn't aiming for one now really, either; they were both getting tired and ready for bed. But the very fact that they were goofing around and it was a possibility, was an incredible feeling.

It occurred to her as soon as the pillow was flying through the air, that perhaps that wasn't the best thing to do when they were both still figuring out each others PTSD. She didn't know everything that had happened during Steve's wartime experiences, what things might still be haunting him, and so thank goodness when he took it in stride and tossed the fluffy thing right back at her. The pillow was caught with ease, which she was proud of herself for - she'd been working hard to get back her old reflexes and strength.

She gave him a gentle tap on the hip with the pillow before returning it to its place on the bed and taking the brush from him. "Thank you," she told him with a much less irritated expression before sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed and start the process of working the brush through her tangles. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought once she got to work, she just wasn't used to the volume that curls produced.

In this setting, where he was feeling perfectly at ease and comfortable, PTSD really wasn't an issue for Steve. It was when he was in unfamiliar or open places, surrounded by unknown entities, that he began to feel that soldier's itch at the back of his neck and in the pit of his stomach. It actually felt nice, being able to use his reflexes in a non-combat situation, where it was just a little bit of playful fun. Besides the USO tour, he'd never been able to use his strength for anything besides fighting; and while it hadn't been fighting, he wouldn't exactly call the tour 'fun,' either.

When she tapped the pillow against his hip, Steve had to grin; he should've realized Rogue would never be one to acquiesce, even if she was stopping it from escalating into an all-out fight. And while her expression was less irritated, the pure sass when she thanked him made Steve's brows go up in surprised delight. Every little thing she did made him love her more and more, and this in particular was just priceless.

Steve wandered around, grabbing a clean pair of boxer shorts and lightweight sleep pants, debated getting a T-shirt... then decided against it. He wasn't planning on anything physical happening for a while, but just being able to sleep beside Rogue, feeling their skin touching, was something he really wanted.

It didn't take him long to change his clothes, merely shucking the old ones and skimming the new on, completely unbothered by his nudity, or the fact Rogue was possibly ogling him while he did it.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Rogue and her PTSD. It didn't matter where she was or what she was doing, the smallest thing could trigger a reaction, and there was no telling if it would be a really bad one that would spiral into a full episode. She dreaded the day that Steve would see one of those, because she knew it was unavoidable.

In the meantime, damn right she was ogling him while he changed. She might have seen the whole show earlier that evening, but it was so much better knowing that could look her fill tonight and still be able to see it tomorrow and the next day. This thing between them wasn't ending anytime soon, and the view really was downright amazing.

When fabric was once again securely in place and she was smiling a cat that ate the canary grin, Rogue stood and moved to return the brush to his dresser; she set her folded dress on the corner of it as well. "Do you mind if I take the right side?" she asked him over her shoulder as she smoothed a hand over her now mostly straight hair, the curls mostly gone now from the thorough brushing. "I'm okay with either, that's just usually where I end up."

Seeing Rogue in his running shorts and shirt - especially that shirt - filled Steve with some strange, nebulous feeling he couldn't explain. Contentment and lust and a kind of primal, possessive love, almost a pride that she was his, which was ridiculous because he would never treat her like that, but that's how he felt.

Reaching out, Steve slid his hands along Rogue's waist until he had her in a loose embrace, pressed against her back. He leaned down and kissed under her ear, before murmuring, "I think that'll be fine. I usually sleep on the left, anyway." The left was closer to the door, and on the off-chance anything should happen, Steve liked being able to roll out of bed, grab his shield and investigate.

It was a small paranoia, and not something he usually gave conscious thought to; it was just something he'd done, ever since waking up, and even during the war when they'd been able to find a safe house to rest in. It felt strange, negotiating and discussing something as mundane as 'which side of the bed do you want?'

Steve gave Rogue another kiss under the ear, before pulling his arms back so they could actually get in bed. It was late now, and both of them had had a long day. Rogue especially must be worn out from crying, and he wanted her to be well-rested. Thankfully, he didn't need a lot of sleep, but it would be nice to just laze about in bed with her beside him, if he did wake up early.

Rogue knew that Steve wasn't the possessive sort and she'd never even contemplate the possibility of him being such. What he was feeling though, that was different, and if he ever told her about it or acted on it in the bedroom... Well, she'd find it one hell of a turn on.

While he had his arms around her, she leaned back against him, enjoying that simple embrace and the sound of his voice in her ear. She turned when he moved away, watching him for a moment before stepping over to the bed and lifting the folded back blankets to slip between them. Being Steve's bed now was different from before; in a way, it was even more intimate. Sleeping with someone meant letting your guard down and trusting them, letting them see you while you were vulnerable. It was wonderful with the right person.

"Come here, handsome," she said with a soft smile, gently patting the patch of sheet beside her.

Steve couldn't stop his grin as she patted the bed; as if he needed an invitation to get in beside her. "Yes, ma'am."

It was different, getting into bed with her this time, mostly because now, he was able to think clearly about what was going on, how this was going to work. This wasn't like sleeping back-to-back with Bucky for warmth, and it was another form of casual intimacy that Steve wasn't familiar with.

Not wanting to just lay like a log beside her, Steve pulled the sheet over his stomach and reached for Rogue, pulling her against him and kissing her forehead.

It was an automatic and immediate reaction to curl up beside Steve, slipping her right arm over his torso to hold on to him like a giant teddy bear. Her cheek was pressed against his warm skin and as her muscles began to completely relax, exhaustion crept in quickly.

"Happy birthday, Steve," she murmured, followed a mere second later by a big jaw-cracking yawn. She wasn't going to make it more than two minutes at this rate.

Steve reached down to cover her arm with his hand, not holding, but a loose embrace, stroking her skin for a moment as he bent his head to press a kiss to her hairline. "Thank you," he whispered, almost breathing the words out. He didn't just mean for her happy birthday wish, but for the entire day, and for staying with him, and─ just everything.

Yawning a little himself, Steve shifted slightly against the bed, knocking his head back some against the soft pillow, trying to get it to flatten a little bit. He hadn't found a pillow yet that was very comfortable, all of them fluffy and soft and not at all what he was used to. But he made due, and having Rogue wrapped around him actually helped him relax, and the last thing he knew was the feeling of Rogue, in his soft t-shirt, breathing gently against him...

Until...

He'd already released the other prisoners, and now was headed further into the bowels of the Hydra facility, searching for the isolation ward, where he'd been told Bucky was being held. Under the blaring alarms, he could hear gunfire starting up, and loud booms of concussion blasts, probably from larger, Hydra-engineered weaponry.

Spotting Zola leaving a doorway, the two stared at each other, in a transfixed tableau, before Zola turned tail and began running. Steve took chase... but coming to the door the little man had exited, he slowed, remembering what he'd originally come here to do, and curiosity getting the better of him.

Moving into the room, Steve glanced around at what appeared to be a scientist's office space. It looked surprisingly like Howard's workshop on base, with papers scattered everywhere, bits and pieces of different equipment in various stages of construction. He found a case of neatly arranged cartridges, that glowed a strange blue, and plucked one out, tucking it into a pocket to take back to base with him. Maybe Howard could figure out how those strange blue weapons worked, and how to combat them.

Another sound began to make itself known under the distant gunfire and constantly blaring alarms. Repetitive, with enough changes he could tell it was a voice. Steve knew that voice, and he moved toward the small doorway in the office to see who it was.

This doesn't feel right, a part of him thought. It was drowned out by the sudden knowledge that he'd found Bucky; he could rescue him, and get them back to safety.

The room was large, undecorated concrete; there was a steel tray with various medical instruments on it, including empty syringes and bloodied gauze, but Steve only peripherally noticed, moving toward the table where a figure was strapped down, repeating the same phrase over and over again.

Steve became more apprehensive, wanting to turn back, not wanting to see this. This isn't right! But his body didn't listen, walking forward cautiously until he was standing over the figure and could hear the words being spoken.

Wearing a battered and torn S.S.R. shirt and brown uniform skirt, Rogue lay strapped to the table, staring up toward the ceiling unseeing, repeating, "Em...four-eight...two-seven. Em-four...eight-two-seven..."

Steve twitched a few times in his sleep, a soft, high-pitched whine starting at the back of his throat, but not making it past his clenched teeth.

It surprised Rogue how easy it was for her to fall asleep next to Steve, let alone stay that way for very long. It had been a long time since she'd known what it was like to have someone beside her like that, and she could only assume that it was because of the trust she felt for him that she was able to let her guard down so thoroughly.

Still, she was working with the instincts of someone who'd lived through a war, and at the first sign of trouble she was awake, her eyes open as she listened for whatever it was. One of those twitches was what she felt first, and then she heard that soft whine and she knew.

Sitting up a little, she stayed mostly where she was, still touching Steve so her movements wouldn't jar him out of whatever nightmare he was caught in. "Steve," she called quietly, hoping to ease him out of the dream so he wouldn't be so disoriented when he woke. "Steve, sugar, you're dreaming. You need to wake up."

Frozen in horror, Steve stared at Rogue on the table for an unknown time, his mind unable to process what was happening. It was Bucky, it was supposed to be Bucky there, not Rogue!

"Steve." His head jerked around toward the new voice, and there stood Bucky ─ not wearing his tattered army uniform like the first time this had happened, but his blue winter stealth outfit, that he'd died in.

Spurred into action at the turn of events, Steve rushed over to Rogue's arms, trying to undo the restraints. He tugged and yanked at them, but they held fast. "Help me!" he shouted at his best friend.

"You knew this was gonna happen," Bucky said impassively, wandering over to stand beside Steve, but not reaching out to Rogue to help.

"No─I─didn't!" Steve grunted. Rogue had stopped speaking, and now her eyes were following Steve's face as he moved, her expression still vacant. "The war's over! This isn't happening!"

Bucky sighed softly. "Steve. You're dreaming." The words were so unexpected, Steve stopped his frantic movements and glanced up at his friend in confusion. Bucky looked at him with pity, and compassion; an expression Steve had seen frequently, but that Bucky had always been quick to hide when he realized Steve was looking. "You need to wake up."

And Steve did. With a quick, violent inhale, Steve was thrust back to consciousness. He lay still for a moment, waiting for his racing heart to settle down, cataloguing everything he could hear, feel, smell. He was in his room; he remembered going to bed with Rogue, the first time they'd actually slept together, after an amazing day with each other. He was laying in bed, and he could feel Rogue beside him.

Finally opening his eyes, he looked over beside him, where Rogue was already awake.

Steve's pulse was racing under her hand, she could feel that frantic beat beneath his skin, but she waited until he opened his eyes to move further. Leaning just a little closer, she smoothed her hand up his chest to gently cup his jaw, rubbing her thumb along the skin there. Having someone touch her after a nightmare had always helped to ground her - perhaps it would do the same for him.

"You're awake now," she assured him in that same quiet voice. "Whatever it was you saw, that's not where you are. You're here with me." Memories or full-on nightmares, it didn't matter; whatever he'd just experienced had been incredibly real to him or he wouldn't have been so affected by it. She couldn't say it hadn't been real, because it might have been at one point, and she couldn't begin to assume she knew what he was going through. All she could do was try to help him however she could.

If it had been any other moment, or waking up from any other nightmare, Steve would've turned toward Rogue for comfort. Even with the images in his head, he did want comfort from her. But as she moved, he caught a glimpse of her shirt ─ his shirt, the same one she'd been wearing in the dream ─ and the feeling of terror and panic washed over him again.

Gasping, he sat up, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he was able to get out, even as he pushed the sheet off to get out of bed. "I─" He didn't even finish the sentence, rolling out of bed and striding quickly out into the hall, before turning into the bathroom.

Flipping the light on automatically, he stopped in the middle of the room, not sure what else to do. He could feel his nerves singing under his skin, telling him there was danger, something was wrong, he needed to be doing something, but there was nothing to do! He'd had a nightmare, that was all!

Rogue was fine. No, probably not fine, after he'd just freaked out on her and left her in bed with barely a word, but she was unharmed.

Except she wasn't really, was she? She'd been harmed. She'd been tortured, just like Bucky had been, but for much, much longer, and while he hadn't been ignoring that fact, it hadn't really sunk in what that meant. Not until his mind had supplied him with the visceral reminder of seeing that room, making him relive those moments.

And Bucky being there. That had just made it so much worse. Two people he loved, unthinkable things done to them, and he hadn't been able to protect either of them, in the end.

Slowly, moving as if he really were 92 years old, Steve moved over to the sink, and turned the cold water on. He splashed his face a few times, before raising his head to stare at his reflection.

Rogue's hand reached for him as he sat up and moved away from her, and it hung there in the empty air for a long moment after he was gone. He'd moved so quickly, running from her and whatever he'd seen, that the ache didn't settle into her heart until she heard his footsteps stop

It wasn't about her, she had to remind herself. Whatever he'd seen in his dream, it hadn't been her fault, she'd done nothing to cause him to run away from her like that. She hoped. Because there was always the possibility that, now that he'd seen her scars, he'd been haunted by visions of what might have been done to her. Was it too self-centered to think that? To assume that he might be so bothered by her past to have it affect him so, when he'd been through so many other things?

Yes, it was, and she felt awful for it.

Rogue wanted to rush after him, wrap her arms around him and keep him safe from whatever thoughts and fears were torturing him. But he didn't want her in that moment, or perhaps just didn't need her. Lord knew she could understand that - she dreaded the day he'd see her at her worst, when all she could do was hide in a corner of the room and cry herself sick because she was so lost in her own head.

The thought made her tense and she tried to shove it back down, but the damage had already been done. What was he doing with her? What was he doing with a broken shell of a woman who deserved to be locked up for everything she'd done? He deserved so much better than the likes of her, but she couldn't give him up. She loved him and she was going to be selfish just this once and fight to keep him, even if she didn't deserve him.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she slid out of the bed as well, straightening the borrowed shirt before wandering down the hall. There was a light on in the bathroom, the door open partway - so that's where he'd gone. Her steps slowed for just a second before she kept going, her head down and her hair a curtain to block the sight of whatever he was going through in there. He'd left the bedroom for a reason and she wasn't going to intrude on his privacy.

She didn't stop until she was in the kitchen, and her hand fumbled for a moment in the darkness before finding a switch for the light over the sink. Her instinct was to make coffee, because that's what she did whenever she woke from a nightmare and couldn't bear to go back to sleep even though she was exhausted, but that wasn't going to help Steve. So tea, then. If he even had anything for tea. He probably didn't, he'd said he didn't have much. But maybe... So she started looking, moving as quietly as she could while she opened drawers and cabinets and saw just how little he really had there.

If he hadn't seen the same look before, Steve almost wouldn't recognize his own face. He looked... haunted. Which was how he felt, how he was. As soon as he thought he had a handle on things, as soon as he started moving forward, he'd get thrown back into it all, and have to relive the worst moments of his life.

He heard the quiet movements of Rogue, and used them as a way to center himself. He closed his eyes, visualizing everything: the rustle of the sheets meant she was getting out of bed. The soft padding of her footsteps ─ pausing briefly outside the bathroom door, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be left alone, or wanted her to come in and ask if everything was alright. But she kept moving; through the living room; the soft *click* of a light-switch, and then the soft but unmistakable sound of drawers and cabinets being opened and closed.

He still felt a little like his skin was going to jitter and fall right off him, but he was calmer, now, and could at least pretend, for a little while, that he was alright. He'd have to do something with his excess energy in a while, but for now, he turned off the bathroom light and wandered out, through the living room, to the edge of the kitchen. He leaned against the fridge, instinctively crossing his arms, before realizing that probably looked more aggressive than he meant it to. He wasn't really sure what to do with his hands, as his sleep pants didn't have pockets, so he finally just grabbed the fabric where the pockets should be, letting the tactile feeling of the fabric continue to ground him.

"What're you looking for?" he asked softly, trying to put as much apology as he could into his voice, and his expression, if she happened to look at him. It was still a little difficult, seeing her in that shirt so closely after the dream, but he made himself pick out the differences. She wasn't wearing a uniform skirt; the shirt wasn't torn or ripped or stained, and seeing as how it had been made for him and not her, it didn't fit her the same as it had in the dream.

It wasn't the same. It hadn't been real. (Except somewhere, it had been.) She was here now, with him, as okay as she could be.

Rogue didn't hear him come down the hall, but she noticed when he appeared at the corner of her field of vision, just at the edge of the kitchen. Her breath hitched when he crossed his arms because it did look... But he changed his posture and she breathed a little easier.

And then he asked that question and she couldn't hear the apology, just an accusation that he hadn't made, but that someone else had a long time ago. Too many someones, always mistrusting her and worrying that the foster kid would steal something or break something and they wanted the money she brought them but not the hassle. There were good foster families out there, she knew that, but she'd never been lucky enough to end up with one of them, and instead she'd been tossed around by the people who made her feel completely worthless and unwanted.

What if Steve decided he didn't want her anymore? What if he came to the conclusion that she really wasn't the hassle and he wanted out of this beautiful thing they'd started? She couldn't fight that, couldn't hold on to him if he wanted to send her away. She would have to go back to being completely alone and she... She couldn't survive that.

All of that was shoved back down and she let her hand fall from the open cabinet door to turn to face him. "I was just seeing if you had anything for tea," she explained carefully, almost hesitantly, and with worry in her expression. "I wanted to do something to help you, but I didn't really know what." She lowered her head again and her hair fell back into her face, a waterfall of brown and white to try to help her hide from... everything. "Are you okay?"

Steve could hear a cautious note in Rogue's voice, and he could only assume it was because she'd been going through his kitchen without asking first. Hearing that she'd wanted to do something for him made Steve's shoulders drop, some of the lingering tension draining out of him. His hands relaxed, then let go of the sides of his pants, and his lip twitched in the barest of smiles - possibly all he could manage at that moment, but it was by far better than how he usually felt so soon after a nightmare.

At her question, he huffed a sigh, which turned into a small, humorless laugh. Was he okay? Physically, he was fine, his body already back to baseline normal for him, his heart beating regularly, not sweating or short of breath. Emotionally... Steve shook his head a little, before giving her a self-deprecating smile. "I am... so far from okay, honestly. But right now... I've been better. I─ I'm sorry, about earlier. I couldn't─I didn't─" he heaved another sigh. "I just needed to get my head back on straight. I shouldn't have just left like that. I'm really sorry."

He reached one hand out, unconsciously biting his lip in worry, hoping she'd take the invitation. He'd rebuffed her just a few minutes ago, and now that he was thinking clearly again, he knew that would've meant much more to her than someone else. He hoped she understood that he hadn't been rejecting her, and that she'd still be willing to be with him.

Looking up slightly when he spoke, her chest tightened at his words, almost painfully so, and she had to shake her head at his apology. He shouldn't be apologizing, he didn't need to, if only she could make him understand that she did know this part of what he was going through and she didn't blame him in the slightest for how he'd reacted.

But those words wouldn't come out, and so she did the next best thing: she went to him, bypassing that outstretched hand entirely to slip her arms around his middle and press her cheek against the smooth skin of his chest, her head tucked under his chin. "It's okay," she finally managed, though her words were tight and fragile. "I understand. You do what you to, and I'll be here."

Exhaling heavily in relief, Steve instantly wrapped his arms around her when she came to him, holding her a little more tightly than the situation strictly warranted. Hearing her tell him it was okay─ well, it really wasn't, in his mind, and he could hear that she didn't really believe it, either. But he couldn't tell her it wouldn't happen again, because for all he knew, it might.

Finally, he murmured, "It's been a long time since I've had anyone around to comfort me from a nightmare. Once I was old enough, I didn't even let my mother know, I just... dealt with them, and moved on." He wasn't going to tell her what the dream had been about, that part of the reason he'd left was because of her; he knew how self-conscious she was about the scars on her back, the visual reminder of what she'd endured, and telling her he'd dreamed about it ─ even if it hadn't been the scars themselves that had been part of the dream, she would feel like it was her fault he'd dreamed the whole thing in the first place.

In a way, it was because of her, but nothing like how she would think. He loved her, and never wanted to see her hurt, and his mind had played on that fear, putting her in the place of the only other person it could whom he'd loved unconditionally, who'd been hurt like that.

Steve pressed a lingering kiss to her head. "It's just gonna take some time for me to get used to having someone comfort me after a nightmare, that's all. But... I'm glad you'll be here. I always want you here with me."

In Rogue's mind, it was completely okay that he'd reacted as he had, that he'd gone with his instinct and done what he'd needed to in order to be able to come back to her like he had. If she'd been in his place, she might very well have done the same thing. What wasn't okay was her guilt and doubt and the fear that had clung to her when he'd left. He hadn't done anything to warrant all of that.

And his way of dealing with nightmares did sound so very familiar. She'd never let anyone help her with her own terrible dreams back at the mansion, and even Remy she'd pushed away for a good long while, preferring to be on her own so no one could see her in such a state. But then things had gotten bad, with the war and... It had been easier to give in and let Remy help her, and it really had been exactly what she needed.

"I always want to be here with you," she told him, her arms tightening just a little around him. She hoped that she always could be, that they could both get past their own troubles and be there for each other. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

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